


let the questions just hang, all I need is time with you, love

by echoes_of_realities



Category: Glee
Genre: Canon Compliant, Early season 3, F/F, it's a carnival date because cliches are Important to me lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-13
Updated: 2018-10-13
Packaged: 2019-08-01 07:18:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16280120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_realities/pseuds/echoes_of_realities
Summary: “So, it’s Friday,” Santana says, and Brittany grins because she has a feeling she knows what Santana’s about to ask since it’s that time of year again, and it’s kind of a tradition for them, “and I was wondering if you had any plans tonight?”“Hmm,” Brittany teases, once again tightening her fingers around her binder so she doesn’t reach for Santana, “I might. Lord Tubbington is in desperate need of a bath.”“Well,” Santana singsongs, “I was wondering if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to the opening night of the midway in Cridersville.”





	let the questions just hang, all I need is time with you, love

**Author's Note:**

> Anonymous asked: Could you write some early season 3 brittana? Before or after coming out- whatever you want lol  
> Notes: Anon you found my secret soft spot with is the summer between s2 and s3/early s3 because I have Endless feelings about that time period tbh. And because of that (as is usually the case with me), this got out of hand lmao
> 
> Title from Time by Canyon City

It’s Friday, only a few short days before Halloween, when Santana shyly approaches Brittany at their lockers. Santana shuffles her feet as she walks, taking small, hesitant steps, her ducked head unable to hide the brightness in her eyes or the smile playing across her lips. Santana’s shyness is so adorable that it makes Brittany feel her heartbeat in her fingertips, right where the nail meets skin. Brittany smiles at Santana until she reaches their lockers, tightening her hold on her binder so she doesn’t reach out to take Santana’s hand and pull her close enough to kiss. It’s been harder and harder to ignore the urge lately, and Brittany finds herself clutching at binders and backpack straps and sheet music with more resoluteness than she ever has before. 

“What’s up, buttercup?” she greets.

Santana’s nose scrunches up as she grins at Brittany as if Brittany is Christmas morning; it makes Brittany feel like she’s basically the best thing in the whole world and she tries to bite down on her smile but it doesn’t really work because she can still feel it in her cheeks.

“You’re cute,” Santana says, and the way she doesn’t glance around the hallway first or lower her voice makes Brittany’s heart flutter because it means that Santana said it without thinking or worrying. Santana’s eyes still shutter closed though, and she gets that sharp, twisted look of fear as she realizes what she said aloud, but Brittany just keeps smiling at her until it eases and Santana gentles again. “How was math?” she asks, and Brittany knows that it wasn’t what Santana originally intended to ask, but sometimes, Brittany knows, Santana needs to skirt around the issue at hand for a little bit first.

Brittany shrugs and grins cheekily at Santana. “Boring without you there to pass notes too.”

Santana’s face blooms open and bright as she smiles, in better lighting than a public school hallway offers, Brittany would be able to see the slight pink to Santana’s cheeks, but Brittany knows to look for it elsewhere; in the crease of her eyes, in the hint of dimples, in the flash of teeth against her lip, in the slight upturn of her eyebrows, in toes of her shoes tapping together. Brittany’s an expert in all things Santana, she’s spent hours studying every part of her until she could map Santana inside out and outside in on muscle memory alone, but this? Getting Santana to blushingly smile without even thinking about it? Brittany’s pretty sure she was born with the knowledge, she can feel it in her bones like she can feel the music in them, it’s something that she’s always known and something that she’ll always know; it’s involuntary, a little like breathing.

“So, it’s Friday,” Santana says, and Brittany grins because she has a feeling she knows what Santana’s about to ask since it’s that time of year again, and it’s kind of a tradition for them, “and I was wondering if you had any plans tonight?”

“Hmm,” Brittany teases, once again tightening her fingers around her binder so she doesn’t reach for Santana, “I might. Lord Tubbington is in desperate need of a bath.”

“Well,” Santana singsongs, “I was wondering if you would do me the honour of accompanying me to the opening night of the midway in Cridersville.”

Brittany lets Santana study her, brown eyes darting all around Brittany’s face with nervous anticipation. Brittany waits until Santana’s eyes finally settle on her own before she lets the smile threatening her bloom. “That sounds more fun than wet cat,” Brittany agrees, and Santana relaxes, her fingers twitching towards Brittany for a moment before she remembers herself. This will mark only the second year that they’ll go without their parents, and Brittany still has the little stuffy that Santana won her last year hidden in a box underneath her bed where she keeps all her special things; Brittany spent a lot of last year hugging that stuffy to her chest because the girl who gave it to her had never felt so far away.

Brittany briefly wonders if Santana means this to be a date; they’ve been going to the midway since they were about six and the Pierce’s invited Santana along that first time, but this is the first time it’ll only be the two of them, since last year was the first time Brittany was allowed to drive them there herself, on the condition that they bring the munchkin. Brittany’s always kind of wanted to go on a date to a carnival before because they always seem so fun, but the thought has barely crossed Brittany’s mind before Santana’s eyes catch on some football players sauntering down the hall and she shutters back closed again.

“We can take the munchkin with us or something,” Santana adds quickly as her eyes flit around the hallway like a hummingbird does around flowers. “Since we’re going as— As friends,” Santana’s voice is high and flighty and she stumbles over the words a little and Brittany’s heart stumbles over them a little too, her fingers tightening around her binder for an entirely different reason now. “Right?” Santana mumbles, and she sounds so unsure and she looks so longing that the tightness in Brittany’s chest eases again. Sometimes Santana doesn’t realize that what she wants more than anything in the entire world is one of the easiest things Brittany could give her, sometimes Brittany knows the best thing for Santana is to ease her into things before she realizes it to keep her from spooking.

Brittany’s learned the cruel lesson of patience over the last year and she knows that Santana is trying so hard to be brave for her, but Brittany wants Santana to be brave for herself too, and so she makes a quick decision to ease Santana into the idea of them dating, the idea that they’ve been dating since the end of junior year and probably even for longer than that; but she also makes the decision to let Santana come to this realization herself, because Brittany wants Santana to be brave for the right reasons, and this is one of those things that Santana will look back on and laugh about in ten or twenty or thirty years, and Brittany _knows_ , more than she knows anything else, that she wants to be the one laughing right beside her.

“Pick us up at five?” Brittany says instead, and Santana looks both relieved and guilty as she nods quickly. Brittany doesn’t tell her that the munchkin has been home sick since lunch, because she doesn’t want Santana to get nervous and scared again, so she just smiles and lets Santana lead them towards their biology class.

//

Santana pulls up to the Pierce’s house in her mom’s old car at a quarter to five. Brittany lives on a pretty sleepy street, especially compared to Santana’s house near the more sketchy elementary school and the trailer parks, and so once she catches a glimpse of a car turning onto the street she quickly shrugs on her jacket, knowing that it’s Santana because it wouldn’t be anyone else. She barely waits for Santana to put the car in park before she’s calling goodbyes to her parents as she slips out the front door, long before her phone even chimes with Santana’s _I’m here_.

“Where’s the munchkin?” Santana asks in lieu of greeting as Brittany plops into the passenger seat. She glances past Brittany’s head as if the munchkin is just waiting to pop into the view of the passenger-seat window; she’s been into trying to scare people lately, what with being nine and preparing for Halloween in a couple days. 

“She’s sick,” Brittany answers, and brown eyes snap to blue and Brittany can see the nervous fear start to creep into Santana’s eyes again.

“I promised to bring her back a stuffy,” Brittany says easily, taking Santana’s hand off the gear shift and rubbing warmth into her ice cold fingers; Santana has always had cold hands, and Brittany has always made it her personal job to warm them up, and she takes her job very seriously. “She was telling me how sad sad she is about missing it, but then she puked, so.”

Santana finally gentles and crinkles her nose in disgust. “Ew, Britt, I didn’t need to picture that.” 

Brittany shrugs. “I didn’t need to see it either, and yet here we are.”

Santana laughs a little and shakes her head. “Well I guess that means I’m saving ten bucks on admission now.”

“My parents would have given me money for her,” Brittany protests, “And I can get my own ticket so—”

“My treat,” Santana interrupts and there’s a hint of nerves coating the edges of her voice, making it crack a little on the last syllable.

Brittany just squeezes Santana’s hand and tries to control the flutter of her heart.

//

It’s not until the third time Santana’s waited just a beat too long after a streetlight turned green that Brittany shoots her a questioning look.

“What?” Santana says defensively, but she’s got that same breathless look that means she’s fighting a blush.

“Nothing,” Brittany says, thoroughly enjoying watching Santana squirm awkwardly in her seat perhaps a little too much. They hit another red light and Santana eases the car to a stop, the brakes groaning and protesting like they have ever since Maribel first got it a year after her divorce. The street is deserted of other cars and people aside from them, and nothing is there to keep Brittany from catching Santana staring at her again.

“Seriously,” Brittany laughs, “Do I have a second face growing out of my cheek or something?”

“No!” Santana says, too quickly, “It’s just— I mean—” Santana cuts herself off and takes a deep breath before she glances at Brittany, her voice turning bright and flighty, “You look really pretty tonight.”

That bright, warm, _SantanaSantanaSantana_ feeling Brittany’s felt for about as long as she can remember blooms deep in her chest and she sighs into a soft smile. “Thank you,” she murmurs, leaning over to press a quick kiss to Santana’s cheek, enjoying the rush of heat she feels under Santana’s skin. Santana gasps so prettily that Brittany has to press another kiss to her cheek, pulling back to admire the weak afternoon sunlight streaming through the window, catching in dark, fluttering eyelashes.

“Green,” Brittany says suddenly.

Santana’s brow furrows adorable and Brittany fights the urge to kiss her cheek again. “Huh?”

“The light,” Brittany elaborates, nodding at the streetlight but not taking her eyes off of Santana’s, “It’s green.”

Santana snaps out of her Brittany induced daze and quickly looks up at the light. “Shit,” she mutters as she eases off the brake. The sunlight disappears from the window as a cloud drifts across the sky, but Brittany doesn’t need it to see Santana’s blush.

//

Santana blushingly pays for their tickets, just like she promised, and lets Brittany lead the way into the midway. It’s a pretty tiny set up; there’s a small ferris wheel and a kids roller coaster, a carrousel and a haunted house, an assortment of food trucks and booths of carnival games, a live band struggling through a rendition of _You Shook Me All Night Long_ and too many kids running around unsupervised. It smells like cooking grease and machine oil and sugary things and dead leaves, the evening sun is starting to dip behind the ferris wheel and the fair lights are starting to brighten and twinkle in the threat of the oncoming darkness. Kids scream and couples laugh and the creak of rides cuts through the air, the faint strains of the band playing through the chorus floating between snippets of conversations.

It’s nowhere near as big as the Ohio State Fair that Brittany’s parents take her and the munchkin to every couple years, and the rides are pretty lame compared to it, but Santana’s arm brushes hers as she leans over to whisper _If they start playing Don’t Stop Believin’ we’re leaving_ in Brittany’s ear and her entire body erupts in goosebumps in response, and Brittany’s pretty sure this travelling midway in Cridersville is probably the best fair ever.

//

They browse the food trucks first, because neither of them ate supper and Santana’s stomach started growling as soon as they passed the first row of houses in Cridersville. They settle on a place that sells fries and grilled cheese and deep fried eggs, which seems like a weird combination but it all smells delicious. Santana promises to get them Elephant Ears later, partly because they’re a staple carnival food and it’s tradition to have them, but mostly because they’re Brittany’s favourite.

Santana is already paying before Brittany can wrestle her wallet out of her jacket pocket, and Santana shoots her a cheeky grin over her shoulder, her tongue poking out between her teeth. It takes everything in Brittany not to lean forward and kiss Santana right then and there, so she just shoves her clenched hands into her jacket pocket instead and steps up closer to Santana by the food truck window. “If you’re going to be the gentlewoman today, you better win me a prize too,” she teases.

Santana stiffens, her elbow knocking against Brittany’s as she fumbles with the change the man in the food truck hands her, her eyes flit to him but he’s already disappeared to the side, paying the two girls no mind, and then to the mom with the shrieking kids in line behind them, who looks too exhausted to care even if she heard over her wailing baby; neither of them pay the two girls any mind and she relaxes again, giving Brittany a smile that’s apologetic and guilty and confident all at once. “Oh I plan to,” she promises, and Brittany’s pretty sure they couldn’t look more obviously in love if they started shouting it from the top of the ferris wheel.

She doesn’t tell Santana this, because it might spook her more than the haunted house will later, she just grins and bumps their shoulders together as they step to the side of the window and wait for their food.

//

They do the haunted house first, because Halloween’s on Monday and Brittany thinks it’s best if they wait a little bit after eating before they try any of the rides.

The closer they get to the front of the line the clearer the screams cut through the air from inside the haunted house, and Brittany teases Santana the entire way. They’ve been in so many haunted houses over the years, both at this midway and the high school haunted house Brittany’s older cousins would take them too when they were still in elementary school, that they don’t scare either of them anymore, but Brittany’s pretty sure she’ll never forget that first haunted house they went through, the one where Santana screamed and jumped onto Brittany’s back, clinging to her like a little monkey; she’s also pretty sure she’ll never let Santana forget it either because, sure, they were like eight and it was understandable, but it was also hilarious and adorable too.

They giggle their way through the house, pointing out actors to each other before they can get scared and occasionally shrieking with laughter when one they missed startles them. It’s in the middle of the haunted house, in a room that’s more or less pitch black, when something brushes across the back of Brittany’s hand and she almost jumps out of her skin.

“Santana?” she whispers warily.

“Yeah?” Santana says, her voice a lot closer than Brittany thought she was.

“Please tell me that was you.”

There’s a long pause, and this time Santana’s hand brushes hers with a sureness she usually doesn’t have outside of the closed doors of their bedrooms or in the safety of a car on a deserted street late at night. Brittany lets Santana’s fingers wrap around her wrist and holds her breath as they skim across her palm, searching for the spaces between Brittany’s fingers until they catch and interlock.

“You know you never answered me,” Brittany says conversationally, and she pretends that Santana can’t feel her heart race where their wrists press together, she pretends that she doesn’t feel like she’s about to float right away from the liquid happiness burst in her chest, “so this is either you or a _very_ friendly ghost.”

Santana laughs, bright and carefree, and doesn’t let go of Brittany’s hand until the sunlight kisses their faces as they step through the exit.

//

They do a couple rides next, shrieking with laughing the entire time before one of them drags the other off towards a new one. They make their way to the opposite edge of the fair from the entrance and stumble on a ring toss game with no one around. Santana shoots Brittany a confident grin and Brittany tries to stifle the snort she gives Santana; Brittany loves Santana, but she has pretty awful hand-eye-coordination, and they both know it.

Santana manages to get one ring on a bottle neck her first round, the woman warmly teasing and encouraging her in equal parts and Santana snarking back without any real bite. Brittany hangs back just a little, admiring the way Santana’s eased and gentled all evening, no longer glancing around desperately before she brushes her fingers against Brittany’s arm or leans over to whisper in her ear. She’s pretty sure she’s never been more proud of Santana slowly shedding her fear than she is right now. 

The woman gloats Santana into buying another round, and Santana huffs out a challenging breath as she tries again, only succeeding in doing marginally better, mock glaring at both Brittany and the woman when they both start laughing at her.

“Here, let me,” Brittany offers, and Santana pouts for a moment, more upset at herself for failing than at Brittany for taking over, before she relents and buys another round for Brittany.

Brittany’s always had pretty good hand-eye-coordination, and she only misses two rings and manages to win a medium sized stuffy, one that she hands to Santana with an elaborate bow.

Santana flushes so prettily that, when the woman running the game turns her back, Brittany quickly glances around before ducking down and pressing a fleeting kiss to Santana’s knuckles.

Santana just smiles softly at Brittany, the stuffy cuddled to her chest with one arm and herother hand still caught in Brittany’s; she doesn’t start and look around until she hears the woman rustle something in the back of the booth, but she gentles again almost instantly once she realizes no one is close enough to see them. “Thank you,” Santana murmurs, and the softness in her voice and on her face makes something in Brittany’s stomach flip over.

//

The sun has completely disappeared behind the horizon by the time they get in line for the ferris wheel. They share the plate of Elephant Ears they bought as they wait, shuffling forwards a couple inches every couple minutes, giggling and poking at each other as they eat; Brittany always carefully places a torn piece of pastry on her tongue and mashes it against the roof of her mouth while Santana lets it melt in her mouth for a moment before chewing on it when she gets impatient. They toss the paper plate in the garbage as the reach the front of the line, dusting the icing sugar off their hands and leaving white streaks against their jeans. Brittany gets into the car first, closest to the hinge of the safety bar, and Santana sits close enough that their hips almost press against each other, tucking her new stuffy protectively against her other side.

Once they go through two rotations and end up suspended two spots from the bottom as a father and his son are loaded on the next car, Brittany shifts around for a moment, adjusting her jacket and Santana’s until she can take Santana’s hand in the cradle of their bodies and the shadow of their jackets. Santana stiffens for a moment as she darts her eyes around, relaxing barely a moment later at the realization that the people around them too far away to see and at Brittany’s murmured _No one can see_. Santana’s hand is cool in hers, like usual, and Brittany gently rubs warmth into the joints of her fingers and the meat of her palms, like usual.

Santana hesitates a moment as they hang at the very top of the ferries wheel, suspended in the air and swinging gently. Brittany’s not really sure what Santana’s waiting for, but after a moment Santana takes their clasped hand and tugs Brittany’s arm up and over her head, settling it across her shoulders and snuggling into Brittany’s warmth. Brittany knows they only have minutes up here, but for a moment it feels like the night might last forever, suspended in time at the top of the ferris wheel as something blooms and brightens deep in her chest.

“Santana?” Brittany murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“Can I kiss you?” 

Brittany can feel something in Santana’s body break and ease, and before she knows it Santana’s head lifting off her shoulder, a warm smile on her lips and a bright light in her eyes. Santana tips her face towards Brittany’s, and Brittany sucks in a breath as Santana waits for her, the flashing lights along the rim of the ferris wheel painting Santana’s face in gold and blue and white, her deep, dark eyes shinning and reflecting everything Brittany’s ever wanted right back at her.

Brittany takes a moment to lock this moment away in the place she keeps her most precious things, the memories that she knows she keeps in her heart not her head, and then she brushes her lips against Santana’s, swallowing the content sigh Santana releases against her mouth and feeling her heartbeat pound everywhere as something bright and warm spreads throughout her chest.

//

They pick up cotton candy on the way out of the midway, Santana holds her stuffy in one arm and the cotton candy in the other, while Brittany carries the stuffy she promised her sister and a candy apple for when the munchkin’s feeling better. Santana opens the car door for Brittany, handing her the cotton candy and her stuffy before rounding the front of car. Brittany tosses the candy apple and stuffies in the backseat, immediately fiddling with the radio once Santana’s started the car. 

The headlights cast a halo of gold around their car, reflecting off the silver truck in the next row of parking as Santana quickly glances around before easing forward. Brittany turns the radio low as Santana navigates the parking lot, keeping her own eyes scanning the rows of cars for any stray children. The tires of the car crunch satisfyingly on the gravel as they reach the end of the makeshift grass parking lot. Brittany opens the cotton candy as Santana pulls onto the paved streets of Cridersville. She turns the radio back up and offers Santana a tuft of blue cotton candy, which she accepts with a soft smile as they turn onto the road to take them back to Lima.

//

It’s almost eleven by the time Santana walks Brittany to her front door. The porch light is off but the living room curtains are open to let light spill across porch; the Pierce’s hate attracting bugs, even this late into October, but they also hate leaving Brittany in the darkness when she gets home after dark so they’ve had a convenient system rigged up for years. Brittany cracks open the door enough to drop the munchkin’s stuffy and candy apple inside, listening for any sign of life, specifically her parents coming to embarrass her, and shutting the door when she hears none.

She turns back to Santana and reaches for her hands, but Santana’s already reaching for hers and they catch and jumble together for a moment before Brittany finds both of Santana’s wrists and slides her fingers down to tangle their fingers. “You sure you can’t sleep over?” Brittany pouts.

Santana smiles and runs her thumbs across the backs of Brittany’s hands. “I wish I could, but mom works days tomorrow and she needs the car, and as much as I would love to stay, there’s no way in hell I’d manage to pull myself out of bed and get the car back home in time for her seven a.m. shift.”

Brittany smiles because Santana is hard enough to get out of bed on a normal day, but on a Saturday morning when she’s cuddled up against Brittany in the warmth of her bed and fighting the cool autumn air from Brittany’s open window it’s damn near impossible to wake Santana. “Fine,” Brittany playfully concedes, “but you owe me a sleepover.”

Santana laughs and squeezes Brittany’s fingers teasingly. “I wouldn’t dream on cheating you of that.”

Brittany sighs, content and bright and feeling like her blood is fizzy from the nearness of Santana and the warmth of her newest memories. She ducks her head forward to press her forehead to Santana’s. “Thanks for tonight,” she whispers, and her breath on Santana’s face makes Santana shiver all the way down to her fingertips against Brittany’s hands. 

Brittany can see the question on the tip of Santana’s tongue, and she silently encourages Santana to ask it so Brittany can soothe the worries Santana never needed to have in the first place. Santana gets as far as taking a steadying breath and opening her mouth before Brittany sees the courage drain from her. “You’re welcome,” Santana says instead.

Brittany smiles fondly because Santana is adorably sweet and nervous and timid when it comes to their relationship, and shakes her head a little before kissing Santana long and soft and adoring.

Brittany learned the lesson of patience last year, and waiting for Santana to finally ask what she wants to is easy-peasy compared to the waiting Brittany did last year, and Brittany’s pretty sure she could wait until the end of time for this, especially with Santana’s warm lips on hers, their smiles stretching their kiss a little sloppily and a little perfectly. 

//

The next week Brittany will coax Santana into a bath after their movie night with no other intent than to relax and cuddle and maybe kiss just a little; the week after that Santana will nervously take Brittany to Breadstix and hold open the door for her and insist on paying and wonder and wonder and wonder about things Brittany has known all along.


End file.
